The LTLP climbs into the loft to fetch some clothes that she’d previously stored. The bag has been chewed open and the clothes munched upon. She expresses some dissatisfaction at this.
I purchase some mousetraps. I set the mousetraps in the loft, using small pieces of bread as bait. I shut my finger in a mousetrap. It really hurts.
I climb into the loft to check the traps. The mouse has taken all the bait from each trap, but has been caught by the final one. I am crestfallen as I look into its still, furry face. I dispose of both mouse and trap, feeling horrible. It is possible that the mouse had a friend, so I re-set the remaining traps, but I have no heart for doing so. I shut my finger in a mousetrap. It really hurts.
There is another mouse!!! It has sneaked the bait from each trap, without triggering it. Yay for the mouse!!! I re-bait the traps, shaking my head in amusement.
Once more, the bait has been taken with no disturbance to the mousetraps. The little scamp. I re-bait the traps, this time using peanut butter. It says on the internet to use peanut butter, as this ensures that the traps are triggered. I hate peanut butter, but I expect the internet knows what it’s talking about.
The mice have eaten the peanut butter, but again the traps have not sprung. I clearly have not set the traps properly. I test the traps accordingly. I shut my finger in a mousetrap. It really hurts. I try some of the peanut butter when I am re-baiting. I suppose it is quite nice, actually.
Mice have no idea about PR. If they would just serve up a casualty occasionally to keep me feeling sorry for them then they would be in a far better position in the man/mouse war. As it is, I keep baiting the traps and they keep eating the bait and escaping. So they are fighting a losing battle.
A mouse has started building a nest in one of the mousetraps, using loft insulation and bits of cabling from my Sky TV. I re-bait the traps. Meanwhile, I am developing a serious peanut-butter addiction.
Success!!! I actually hear a trap being sprung, in the early hours of the morning. I leap up, and climb into the loft. A mouse has the very end of his foot caught in a mousetrap, and is looking at it with annoyance. I look at the mouse, crestfallen. The mouse looks at me. It then runs off, taking the trap with it.
Bait gone; no further mice captured.
My only hope is that the mice will evolve a fatal nut allergy. The traps are undisturbed, aside from one, which has been moved several feet and then shat upon.
Bait gone, no mice. I am running out of peanut butter, as the mice and I have eaten most of it. I move to a chocolate spread model. As yet I have nothing else to report.